Lives Never Lived
by T0mat0head
Summary: Across Cardiff, four strangers are plagued by the same sense of unease, the same certainty that something is wrong, the same image of a man in a coat. Set early season 2, though after Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang. Focus on all four non-immortal team members. - On hiatus until the stroke of further inspiration, unfortunately.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Just the feeble beginning to a story that wouldn't stop bugging me. I've realised my problem with another story I'm writing is that I always feel I'm not doing him justice when writing from Jack's perspective, so here's something focusing on everyone but Jack.**

**I know this chapter looks totally AU as opposed to being set where it says in the summary, but please bear with me and things will make sense soon  
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**This will be continued but on no particular schedule, as I know where it's going, but am not entirely sure how it's going to get there as of yet.**

Prologue**  
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It was a cold, rainy morning in Cardiff, of the kind that makes one want to shut the blinds, roll over and go right back to sleep, and across the city four ordinary people were having four ordinary mornings.

In a small house out in the suburbs, Police Constable Gwen Cooper balanced a small bowl of what had once been apple, but now more closely resembled gruel in one hand and her mobile in the other. The spoon that accompanied the bowl was held tight between her teeth while she checked her messages, a situation which seemed to cause the child in the highchair no small amount of glee.

Suddenly realising her predicament, Gwen dropped the phone on to the nearby kitchen counter and removed the small plastic spoon from her teeth. She turned to her son, bowl of gruel at the ready.

'Here you go, love,' she said, offering a small spoonful to the child, who happily accepted it, 'now I'm afraid I have to go to work today, but you be good for your Dad, okay?'

Gwen couldn't be sure whether opening his mouth for food counted as eight month-old Dylan acknowledging her words, but she chose to believe it did, and tried to let that ease her worries. She'd returned to work part-time nearly two months ago now, but still hated to leave her baby in the mornings, even as she acknowledged it was good for Rhys to spend some time with him too. Her long work hours were now filled with thoughts of Dylan, hoping he was okay, resisting the urge to ring Rhys and check. Everyone insisted this was perfectly normal, but Gwen couldn't shake the feeling sometimes that there really was something out there to be afraid of. Like some constant, intangible fear that kept her alert and on guard.

She fed her son breakfast without fuss, while Rhys made toast and chatted on about some issue with the new driver at work. They both knew that Gwen was only paying partial attention, but neither acknowledged the fact. Too soon it was time to kiss Rhys and Dylan goodbye, put on her hat and coat and sprint for the car.

The morning had been like any other, but as Gwen drove off in the direction of the police station she felt a nagging urge to go another way, like she had something dreadfully important to do but she couldn't remember what it was.

It was the same feeling she got every morning.

* * *

><p>As Gwen Cooper left for work on that rainy Tuesday, Doctor Owen Harper was returning from it.<p>

Even the use of his sturdiest umbrella had not been able to prevent Owen's clothes from becoming soaked in the downpour that now battered against the windows of his flat, obscuring their view of the bay. Usually he would be cursing loudly to whoever might be listening (whether they wanted to hear or not), but last night had been a long one, and Owen remained quiet, yearning only for some much needed sleep.

Dumping his bag on the kitchen bench, Owen proceeded to leave a trail of wet clothing leading to the bedroom. Slipping into bed, he barely had the presence of mind to acknowledge that he was supposed to call his wife this morning. Working different shifts in different hospitals in different cities was an intense strain on their relationship, and Owen had tried many times to broach the topic of moving permanently to Katie. Unfortunately, whenever he did so she reminded him that it was his transfer to the Cardiff A&E that was intended to be temporary, that their lives were in London. What was in Cardiff anyway? She would ask, and he would be unable to provide an answer. It sounded stupid, he knew, but there was something that drew him to this city, some inexplicable pull that told him patching up people in the Cardiff A&E was where he would do the most good.

Owen buried his head in the pillow at that thought. He sounded absolutely mad, even to himself.

After deciding he would call Katie when he woke it took barely five minutes for the doctor to fall into a deep sleep. When his dreams began they were the same he'd had every other night. He was chasing monsters through the streets of Cardiff, gun clenched firmly in his hand; talking to people he was sure he'd never met through a device in his ear. Then suddenly he would be in what looked like a super villain's underground lair dissecting bodies, some of which he was certain were not human.

By the time Owen Harper was falling into an uneasy sleep, Ianto Jones had already been at work a good few hours, and was well settled in to his daily routine.

* * *

><p>Ianto enjoyed opening up on weekdays, and so his boss and co-workers were more than happy to let him work the ridiculously early hours alone. The customers that came in between five and eight were by far his favourites, as they tended to be all businesspeople in need of their early morning caffeine fix. Clientele who were always polite and didn't seem to feel the compulsion to make small talk made weekday mornings Ianto's element.<p>

He was midway through preparing a large flat white, on that particular Tuesday morning, when the woman who had ordered it broke stereotype and spoke to him.

'Excuse me,' she began, a note of curiosity in her voice, 'who is this on the poster?'

Ianto smiled slightly, this question was not an uncommon one. 'I'm afraid I don't know, one of our regulars asked us to put it up.' he half-lied, 'Why, do you recognise him?'

'Oh, no,' she replied quickly, 'I was just curious. Usually these sort of things have photos instead of drawings.'

'They're not usually put up in coffee shops either?' Ianto deflected in a joking tone as he finished up the woman's beverage.

'No, I suppose not' she replied, smiling slightly. Ianto handed her the large takeaway cup and she left, bidding him a distracted goodbye. He watched her shelter from the rain under the coffee shop's overhang and wondered briefly where she had parked, before realising she was headed for the building next door.

Faced with no customers, Ianto set to re-wiping the already pristine bench tops, feeling slightly disappointed at the woman's lack of insight as to the mysterious man in the poster. He had been so sure for a second that she recognised him. Upon reflection, Ianto wondered if perhaps he should have been honest and told her that he'd had one of the other baristas, who was halfway through an art degree, compose the sketch from his own description. No, he decided, she probably would have just thought him mad. After all, who tries to track down a man they've never met, purely because they can't get his image out of their head?

Not for the first time, Ianto decided he would simply have to accept his own irrationality. Still, his mind fixed itself on the image of a man in a long, blue coat, flashing a ridiculously charming grin.

* * *

><p>In the same way that the Asian woman in dark jeans and boots did not know it was Ianto Jones who had put up the poster, the barista in the red waistcoat did not realise that Toshiko Sato had indeed recognised the man it depicted.<p>

Her morning had begun as typical as any other. She woke up to her alarm, showered, got dressed, ate a quick breakfast and was off within the hour. The sprint to her car was only short, and Toshiko was soon on the road. She worked for a small but promising software company, and had always enjoyed the work and gotten along well with her colleagues. Today, however, the thing she liked most about her place of employment was that it boasted underground parking, as the rain only seemed to be getting worse.

Before she went up to her floor to begin the day's work, Toshiko stopped off at the ground floor. As luck would have it, her building was right next to a tiny coffee shop that did a flat white the likes of which Tosh had never tasted before, so close that even rain like this would be of little bother.

It was empty save for one customer and a barista in a red waistcoat, the same one that was here every weekday morning. Inside the coffee shop was lovely and warm compared to the current miserableness of the outdoors, and the dark wood and soft lighting gave the whole place a comfortable aura. Tosh waited until the other customer, a blonde man, had taken his order before approaching to place hers. She handed over the money for it before her attention was caught by the hand drawn, full-length portrait of a strikingly familiar man depicted on a poster taped to the counter. The text beneath it was simple: 'Have you seen this man?' followed by an e-mail address.

The only feeling Tosh could compare to hers upon seeing the portrait was that of the most intense déjà vu she'd ever experienced.

She enquired as to whom it was, but the barista claimed no knowledge. Toshiko tried to smother her disappointment, but quickly memorised the address. She left the coffee shop, searching the deepest vaults of her mind for some trace of the man from the poster, but finding any associations hovering just out of reach.

As rain raged across the city of Cardiff, four people who thought they were ordinary were trying to have four ordinary mornings.


	2. A Chance Meeting

**A/N: Had a bit of writers block, then all of a sudden this scene seemed to write itself, please enjoy!  
>Oh, and thanks to cjh4ever, RhianaStar and jamaiscredule for reviewing, just the thought of feedback makes me giddy ^^.<strong>

Chapter One**  
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The day that inevitably followed morning was as mundane as promised for Gwen. She handled several reports of stolen belongings, accompanied by frenzied citizens. She'd calmed them and taken their statements with care, all the while knowing that, given that the missing objects had been taken in crowded areas, they would most likely never be recovered. Toward midday she and her partner Andy were called as backup for a particularly determined group of youths fighting in the street, but by the time they arrived things were under control, and she was left feeling restless. Gwen loathed the quiet days that seemed to form the majority of her working life. She couldn't pinpoint when precisely she'd begun to crave drama and excitement but there was no denying she did.

Consequently, when a double road fatality was reported at a little past five that afternoon Gwen, while keeping the appropriate decorum required when a life was lost, of course, jumped at the chance to interview witnesses at the scene.

Had she known what the scene would be like it would no doubt have stifled her enthusiasm.

From her position in the passenger seat of the police car, Gwen beheld an awful sight. The crashed car itself was almost in halves, a tree having cleaved its way through the majority of the body. She shuddered to think how fast it must have been going for such damage to occur, but felt relieved upon realising how much worse it could have been if this car had struck another. An ambulance was parked beside another police car, obviously having discovered its mission was futile before even leaving for the hospital. Gwen wondered who she could possibly be here to interview; surely no one had lived through such a collision?

Her question was answered as they parked, and the officer beside her pointed out a man seated on the grass, hands covered in blood. _Oh God_, she thought, _he tried to save them_.

She got out of the car and indicated to her colleague that she was commencing her interview. Approaching the man, Gwen decided to sit beside him as opposed to making him stand, he looked shaken as anything. His button down shirt and dark jeans sported irregular patches of blood, though the sight of it didn't seem to distress him. She realised after a moment that had he been squeamish there was no way he'd have stopped at an accident like this in the first place.

'Mr Harper?' she asked, using the name given to her by the other officer, 'My name's Gwen Cooper, I'm with the Cardiff police, I need to ask you a few questions.'

The man looked up quite suddenly, leaving Gwen unprepared for the barrage of images that assaulted her consciousness. She could see, clear as anything, this man in a white coat standing over a… something, explaining to her how it had died. The scene changed and all of a sudden there was his lips on hers, his hands trailing fire across her skin… so much passion she could feel it even now. Then he was sitting beside her in a big, dark car, and they were arguing about his driving, God, he could be such an immature prat sometimes.

The images were gone in less than a second, leaving behind only vague impressions, but leaving Gwen dazed. She blinked several times in an attempt to clear her head and looked at the man again. His gaze, though it had been surprisingly sure before, was now as frenzied as hers. _What the hell just happened?_ Gwen asked herself. When her conscious mind provided no answer, she forced herself to focus, pushing the strange experience to the back of her mind. It went with no small difficulty, but PC Gwen Cooper had a job to do, mental dilemmas or no.

'Sorry,' Harper said, before she could begin again, 'not quite in my best mind at the moment.' He attempted a smile but it came out more like a grimace.

'That's fine, Mr Harper,' Gwen responded reassuringly, 'you've been through a lot today. I just need to ask you to go through with me exactly what happened while it's still clear in your mind. '

'Okay, shoot,' he said, letting out a breath between words.

'You were driving past when you saw the crash, is that right?' Gwen asked.

'Yeah, I didn't comprehend what it was at first, didn't look anything like a car. But then I realised and turned around, figured I could help. I'm a doctor.' As he added the last part, Gwen realised why he hadn't broken down like most other people would in this situation, he must have dealt with death on a daily basis.

Owen Harper, who insisted she use his first name, continued to recount to Gwen how he had attempted, after calling an ambulance, to stop both crash victims from bleeding out of their many wounds, entering through the remarkably functional passenger side door. He applied pressure to the cuts and tried to bring the victims to consciousness. One man had already been dead when he arrived, and after blood stopped flowing from the wounds of the other he attempted to restart his heart with no success. After only a few minutes of CPR, the ambulance arrived and Owen let its officers take over.

Gwen assured him that her questions were simply routine ones, and that given there was only one car involved the investigation was likely to be straightforward. There was no repeat of the strange images she'd seen as she first met him, and they had now almost faded from Gwen's memory.

After making some final additions to her notes, Gwen stood and Owen followed suit.

'Do you have a contact number, just in case there are any more questions?' Gwen asked.

'Err, I'll give you my mobile, I'm heading to London tomorrow.' He paused for a second before enquiring, 'That's okay, right?'

'We only tell suspects not to leave town, Owen, not witnesses,' Gwen smiled, ignoring the strange familiarity of the situation.

He gave her his number, which she quickly scribbled down under her notes. She was about to tell Owen he could leave when he rested his finger on the top of her pad, right above his name.

'That's _Doctor_ Owen Harper,' he corrected mildly, though looking Gwen firmly in the eye.

The slight familiarity seemed to explode into full-blown déjà vu as he said these words.

_Gwen Cooper, Owen Harper._

Doctor_ Owen Harper, thank you._

He was correcting someone then as well, but for some reason Gwen couldn't pinpoint whom.

'Yeah, sorry,' she finally replied to the real Owen, 'You can head home now, we'll call you if we have any more questions but that shouldn't be the case, from what I can tell you did everything right here.'

'Brilliant, thanks,' he replied quickly and, without further ceremony, walked back to his car.

If Gwen hadn't been stubbornly sure of her own sanity, she would soon have begun to wonder if she was going mad. This was either the most ridiculously vivid case of déjà vu she'd ever experienced, or… That was the problem, she couldn't pick an 'or'. Looking down at her notes, Gwen's eyes were drawn to the phone number at the bottom of the page. Could she really phone him? What would she say? She didn't see how she would explain the situation to this stranger (who was a stranger despite Gwen's brain attempting to convince her otherwise) when she couldn't even explain it to herself.

Shaking her head, Gwen pulled out her phone, but dialled home instead of Owen Harper. Rhys answered, speaking softly so as not to wake a sleeping Dylan and Gwen informed him that she was heading home. Only after hanging up did she realise that she'd not thought of her son the entire time she'd spent at the crash site. It was understandable, what with the gravity of the situation and her needing to focus on Owen's statement, but it was unusual.

Really, Gwen told herself as she waited beside the police car, this last hour had been the epitome of unusual.

* * *

><p>Owen's hands were shaking as he placed them softly on the wheel of his car. He wanted desperately to leave this terrible accident behind but he needed a moment to compose himself enough to drive safely. In truth, it was as much the copper he'd met as the blood on his hands that had Owen's thoughts reeling.<p>

When first they'd locked eyes Owen had been overwhelmed by a jarring sense of familiarity. It hadn't been acute enough for him to discern its origin, though it had all but shattered his already feeble nerves. The worst part hadn't even been that. The worst part had come at the end of the conversation, when Owen's uncharacteristically slow brain had made the connection between this cute police officer and the denim-clad woman from his dreams. Not _of_ his dreams, _from_ them. She was there when he chased the monsters, chasing them with him. Could it be coincidence, he wondered, could he really have dreamed up a person only to find their doppelganger?

Logic informed Owen that he'd most likely seen her before and subconsciously inserted her into his dreams; Cardiff wasn't a ridiculously big place after all. Hadn't he dreamed about her before moving to Cardiff though? Owen tried desperately to remember but he couldn't pick when Gwen Cooper had started showing up in his subconscious.

Shit, now she had a name dreaming about her was so much creepier.

He didn't know why he'd corrected her about his name like that. It wasn't like it really mattered, but in that moment it had seemed so right to do so. Perhaps he was losing it. Sadly, a more likely scenario than any other Owen could come up with.

He wondered briefly, as he started up the car and began the journey his flat, whether she would call. She'd said it was unlikely, but there was always the possibility, and what would Owen do then? He couldn't quite decide if he wanted to avoid PC Cooper or march right up to her and demand to know why she was screwing with his mind.

Owen realised, thinking about phone calls, that he'd forgotten to call Katie again. She was not going to be pleased. But he'd see her tomorrow, and then he'd make everything up to her. With that, he made the conscious decision to think about Katie and nothing else.

And there was no way he was going to think about Gwen Cooper.


	3. Secret Agents and Stories

**A/N: Not quite as pleased with this chapter as the last, and it's ended up having little character interaction, but I now actually know where this is all going, so yay for plot bunnies that grow into actual plots!**

**Oh, and I wasn't sure what the popular e-mail service is in Cardiff, so I just used the same extension for Ianto's address as my English cousins have. If anyone who's more in the know has a better one, please let me know!**

**Thanks to CaffieneScribbler, cjh4ever and Torchwood Cardiff for my most recent reviews, they are without doubt the main motivation behind this chapter.**

Chapter Two**  
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Of all the descriptions Ianto Jones could provide of himself, creative had, thus far in his twenty-five years of life, never been one of them. Certainly he could be resourceful when it was necessary, and possessed a reasonably sharp mind. He had once, when challenged by a co-worker, created a highly amusing, admittedly creative list of fifty unorthodox things to do with a stopwatch. This sudden and seemingly all-consuming desire to write, however, was something Ianto had never imagined or experienced before.

He'd been at work on break when it had begun, the day after his disappointing encounter with the woman who'd asked about his poster. In between sipping his coffee and picking at an altogether uninspiring Caesar roll, Ianto had caught a snippet of conversation between two customers.

'You're mad, totally mad. She'll bite your head off just for asking, you know that right?' a female voice warned from somewhere behind him.

'It's fine, I have a secret weapon.' another disembodied voice, this time a male, responded, 'Chocolate, preferably dark.'

'Yeah, I'll still start on your eulogy.'

The two voices may have continued their conversation but Ianto took no notice. Instead, he focused on the part about the chocolate. He'd heard it somewhere before, like a line from a film he couldn't quite pick the name of. It had to be an action movie, Ianto decided, with dinosaurs. Yeah, that would be it, something really ridiculous where dinosaurs terrorised innocent citizens, and had to be brought down by a dashing captain. The question of whether it had to be this particular type and rank of hero did not occur to him.

Coffee and roll forgotten, Ianto sat back in his chair and let the scene progress in his mind. Two men were alone in a warehouse, trying to subdue a pterodactyl with a bar of chocolate. No, that couldn't be right; surely one would remember a film like that? Ianto became so consumed by trying to figure it out that his boss, Janet, eventually had to call over to him that his lunch break was finished. It was the first time since coming to work there that he had not been back behind the counter long before the end of his break.

For the remainder of his shift, Ianto was uncharacteristically and detrimentally distracted. He spilled drinks, forgot orders, and spent a copious amount of time simply staring off into space when he would usually have been cleaning. Somehow, in the space of maybe an hour, the job he usually enjoyed had become mindless tedium. The eventual effect of all this was that, half an hour before the end of his shift, his irritated and somewhat concerned boss sent him home with orders to sleep it off and be back in tomorrow morning, preferably fully conscious.

He should have been concerned at the brusque dismissal, or even slightly worried at how drastically the quality of his work had decreased, but Ianto now had a far more powerful driving factor. The story now blossoming in his mind, of a group of people dedicated to investigating the supernatural in Cardiff, was aching to be told, to be recorded in some more permanent medium than his own feeble thoughts.

* * *

><p>Had he been slightly more observant that day, or just a little less wrapped up in his own thoughts, Ianto Jones might have noticed, as he was called back after his break, that there was no man and woman sitting behind him. There was, however, a figure in dark glasses and a cravat watching him from the other side of the room.<p>

Bilis Manger had been unsure whether his telepathic abilities would be strong enough to project an illusion vivid enough to trigger Ianto's subconscious memory, but was delighted to see the look of confusion on the Welshman's face that told him he had succeeded.

Manger left the coffee shop without bothering to finish his tea, pleased to have successfully completed the second part of his plan. It would not be long now before Ianto found the others and soon everything would fall in to place exactly as he envisioned it.

* * *

><p>Also unbeknown to Ianto, there sat a woman in the building next door to him suffering a frustrating lack of creativity. For the last five minutes, Toshiko Sato had been staring at her monitor, fingers poised over the keyboard, waiting for inspiration that simply refused to strike.<p>

She re-read the rest of the page, little though there was, as if this would somehow provoke her brain into working again.

To: iajones456 hotmail . co . uk

Subject: Your poster in Janet's Coffee House

Then nothing.

Toshiko was finding it impossible to make what was really a strange question sound like a casual enquiry. Really, she supposed, resting her hands on the desk in resignation, the fact that she'd gone to the trouble of e-mailing this mysterious 'iajones456' prevented anything she said from sounding casual.

_Just wondering who that was a poster of because I got the strangest sense of déjà vu when I saw it…. _No, too spacey, and Tosh was anything but spacey most of the time. After all, it wasn't mere déjà vu, she _knew_ the man in the poster somehow.

_My name is Toshiko Sato and I was in the coffee house the other day when I saw your poster…_ Even worse, that one sounded like it had been written by a six year old.

Toshiko pondered the problem for a few more minutes before deciding she was being ridiculous. Whoever received her e-mail was not going to inspect it as thoroughly as she was acting like they would, and therefore there was no reason to be putting so much thought in to it. Taking a deep breath, she began to type again, this time acting on instinct as opposed to excessive thought.

_To whom it may concern,_

_Regarding your poster at Janet's, the man it depicts was strikingly familiar to me, and I would be very interested in knowing who he is. I will, of course, share any information I may have if I'm able to figure out where I know him from._

_Sincerely,_

_Toshiko Sato_

After several corrections, Tosh was finally satisfied with the finished product, judging it an acceptable balance of informative and sounding somewhat mad. Not wanting to give herself time to reconsider, she immediately hit send, relaxing back into her chair as she did so. It was times like these when Toshiko wished she had access to all that fantastic government software, the address 'iajones456' providing very little insight, particularly as she lived in Wales. The software expert did acknowledge that there was a chance she'd just e-mailed a creep who'd out up the poster in Janet's just to see if anyone would respond, but for some reason that didn't seem likely. For the simple reason that they were both now looking for the same man, iajones had earned some degree of trust from the usually cautious Toshiko.

* * *

><p>…'<em>Oh, so you'll let the pterodactyl in and not me?' <em>

'_I need a guard dog.'_

'_I could be that! Like a receptionist! Building maintenance, food and drink, dry cleaning even, that coat of yours must take a battering. Like a butler, I could be a butler!'_

'_We don't need a butler.'_

'_Excuse me, dried egg on your collar!'_

'_It was a busy week.'_

Before Ianto could type another word his concentration was shattered by the laud beeping of his oven timer. He rose swiftly to check the lasagne that he'd luckily had the foresight to defrost this morning. Deciding it would need at least another five minutes; Ianto resumed his place on the couch and picked up his laptop, reading over everything he'd written so far.

Most of it made little sense, even to Ianto. The majority was simply dialogue between the only two characters as they argued and tried to catch a dinosaur. It had come to him in bits and pieces that he suspected needed re-ordering, but the general outline of a story was there. The only real mystery was where it had come from. There was no way he'd be able to remember the dialogue from a film this clearly but not recall the name. It occurred to the Welshman then that he had not allocated names to his two characters either. Unfortunately, they had yet to refer to one another by name and however he tried Ianto was unable to come up with suitable names for them himself.

Now that everything was recorded, Ianto felt suddenly empty. It was as if the story really had escaped, with his help, from his mind onto the page. The attachment to his characters had remained however, and he found himself amused as the first man attempted to get a job with the second. He was coming off rather desperate by the end, and Ianto couldn't help but chuckle as he tried to sell himself as a butler.

Presently, a notification appeared at the bottom of his screen, insisting that he check his e-mail. Doing so, Ianto found a message from an unfamiliar address, sato_ toshiko riftsoftware . uk. The contents of the e-mail seemed to inflate a bubble of hope in Ianto's chest and gave him the urge to call Laura, the co-worker who had drawn up the poster for him, and tell her childishly 'See, I told you I wasn't mad.' Fortunately he was grown up enough by now to resist, as he had a reply to compose.

_Toshiko,_

_I'm afraid I don't know who he is. I put that poster up in the hope that someone else would be able to identify him, but so far I haven't heard from anyone. It's rather a strange story as to why I'm looking for him, but I'd really like to discuss it with you and see if another perspective might give some insight. I understand if you don't want to meet, but I'm already going to be at Janet's at six tomorrow evening, so if you're not busy and want to talk we can._

_Sorry if I'm coming off a bit strong, just pleased someone's finally recognised him._

_-Ianto Jones_

It was a matter of only a few minutes before Ianto got a reply. He was rather tense as he opened it, hoping she hadn't been put off by his rapid suggestion to meet.

_Ianto,_

_Usually I wouldn't do this, but I think we're definitely trying to solve the same mystery. I'll be at Janet's at six wearing a purple dress. Wow, this is all starting to get a secret agent vibe to it._

_Toshiko_

Resisting the urge to laugh, Ianto typed a quick reply.

_Toshiko,_

_I agree, very Bond. I'm sure all secret agents plan rendezvous by e-mail._

_Anyway, I'll be in a blue shirt, and probably the only person there wearing a suit._

_See you then,_

_-Ianto_

Ianto closed the lid of his laptop and leaned back in to the couch, feeling less stressed and more hopeful than he had all day. Toshiko's suggesting that they were 'trying to solve the same mystery' was encouraging, and there was always the chance that they might manage it.

Peaceful moods, of course, never last overly long, and Ianto's was soon interrupted by the unpleasant smell of burning lasagne.


	4. Discussions

**Thanks to cjh4ever and Torchwood Cardiff for my most recent reviews ^^**

Chapter Three

'Wow, you look fantastic' Owen told his wife as she opened the door to their bedroom. It had been his suggestion that they go out for dinner the evening he arrived in London and one to which Katie had enthusiastically agreed. She twirled in a deep red number that seemed to Owen was purposefully designed so as to make sure they never left the bedroom, let alone made it to the restaurant. Luckily, at least in one way, Katie was ready to leave and they were quickly on their way.

It was she who had suggested the location, an Italian restaurant they had frequented when Owen lived in London, and he had been more than happy to oblige. He was making a particular effort to keep his wife happy tonight, partly to make up for his silence over the past few days and partly so she would be in an amicable mood when he broached the topic of their future living arrangements.

Unfortunately optimism can get one only so far, as Owen was soon to discover.

The night began well enough. They ordered drinks and starters, consumed while exchanging highlights from their two weeks apart. Owen made a point not to mention the accident, or by extension PC Cooper. The fact that she had made a prominent appearance in his dreams the previous night was something he would not admit even to himself.

The topic of Cardiff, however, came up by accident, long before Owen had planned to raise it.

They were discussing the quality of the meal, when he said 'If you like the pasta, there's this place near mine we have to try. I went there for a work dinner, bloody sensational.'

Katie stiffened slightly at this, but Owen pushed on, refusing to back pedal on a topic he really wanted to discuss. 'I was thinking' he began, 'maybe you could come to Cardiff for a few days sometime. I know you've got a few days off in row soon and we could spend them together, I could show you around.'

Katie sighed, 'Owen, I was sort of hoping we'd be done with Cardiff soon. I miss you, and it's been months.' She stopped to take a deep breath before continuing, 'Unless of course it's me, and that's why you suddenly needed to move. But if you don't want to work together there are other hospitals in London, you didn't have to jump cities.'

'It's not like that -' Owen started to say.

'So it's just me in general then? For some reason you need to live three hours away. I had a dream last week that you left me.' Her anger seemed to diminish by the last sentence and Owen took her hand across the table.

'I would never do that.' He assured her, 'I want us to be together, I want you to come to Cardiff, work with me at the hospital, just like before.'

'I don't understand though, what's so important about sodding Cardiff? Both our lives are – well yours at least used to be – in London.' She held his gaze, waiting for an answer that Owen found himself unable to provide. In truth, there was no logical reason for the move. It had been his choice to move jobs, his choice to pack up and leave; it was Owen desperately trying to convince Katie to come with him.

In the end, he simply said what he felt, illogical though it may have been.

'Cardiff is just where I need to be. I'm sorry, I know it doesn't make sense, but would you really want me to give some bullshit excuse?' Owen squeezed her hand gently, hoping desperately for a positive response.

'What I want is to stop feeling like your life is moving on and I'm not a part of it.' The honestly in her answer made Owen's stomach twist with guilt. She spoke so quietly and with such sadness he almost wished she'd shouted instead.

'Katie,' he reached up as he said this and laid his palm on her cheek, caressing her lip with his thumb, 'I want you to be part of everything in my life, I want us to have one life, together.' He contemplated her for a moment before lowering his hand. 'Look, how about we give it two months? If I can't convince you to come to Cardiff in those two months I'll move back to London and we'll never talk about it again.'

She seemed to consider this and then reached for his hand again. 'Okay, but only two months, no going through all this again at the end.'

Owen smiled, though it did not touch his eyes, 'So confident I won't be able to convince you?' he asked.

'Supremely.' She replied

That declaration marked the end of their discussion on the topic for the night, and they soon moved on to lighter matters. Owen was, on one hand, glad to have a shared understanding of the situation and some firm plan for the future. There was another, smaller part of him, however, who acknowledged what Katie said as at least somewhat true. He wasn't sure of many things, but one was that he was supposed to be in Cardiff. Owen had never before put much stock in the idea of fate, but he had become convinced that if it existed, it was his to leave London. It seemed to the doctor that he was being led along a path away from the woman he loved and everything he thought he wanted, toward a vast and inexplicably promising unknown.

* * *

><p>Janet's Coffee House was as quiet that evening as Owen's restaurant was busy. By the time six o'clock rolled around and Ianto finished his shift there were only five beside himself inside, including Laura the artistbarista. Ianto had managed, in the entire eight hours they'd been working together not to mention the e-mail from Toshiko or his associated sanity, a feat for which he was quietly very proud.

After telling Laura he was leaving, Ianto scanned the coffee house and was not altogether surprised to find that the only woman wearing a purple dress was the one who had commented on his poster two days earlier. He had suspected upon first reading her name, but had not been certain. She looked up as he approached her table, relaxing when she met his eyes. Ianto found himself relaxing too. Something about Toshiko made him certain he could trust her. In the corner of his mind another scene was playing out, this time in which one of the men from his story introduced the other to a pretty Asian woman. She was kind to him, welcoming even, where others had not been so. He did his best to push this to the back of his mind.

'Toshiko Sato?' he enquired, merely a formality at this point.

'Ianto Jones.' She replied, no question to her tone, 'You work here.'

'And you come in near to every day. Flat white, one sugar?' he asked. She confirmed this and Ianto pointed toward the counter, 'I'll get you one, don't mean to brag but I get a rather impressive discount.'

'Decaf, please, it's getting late,' she requested.

Ianto ordered, and both his and Toshiko's beverages were quickly prepared. Bringing them back to the table, he finally sat. Though serving coffee was part of his job, there was also something distinctly comfortable about staying to drink with someone who would usually be a customer. He wondered if this applied to customers in general or if it was just Toshiko.

'That man,' she began, eyeing the poster that was still stuck to the counter, 'as soon as I saw him I recognised him, but I'm not sure I know anything that's going to help you.' She looked slightly anxious at this, and Ianto thought it the perfect moment to begin his explanation.

'I understand what you mean about recognising him and still not knowing anything. I've been going over this in my head all day and I'm still not sure exactly where to start.' He paused to take a sip of his coffee, 'Have you ever had something, like a book or a toy from your childhood that you have absolutely no memory of until you see it again as an adult, then once you see it, you remember and wonder how you ever could have forgotten it?'

Ianto watched Toshiko carefully for a reaction, unsure as to whether he was explaining properly. After a moment, she nodded. 'Yes,' she replied, 'there was a program on TV I watched when I was a kid. Is that what happened with you and that man?'

Relieved, Ianto answered, 'Yes, and no. A few months ago I was down the bay, and I saw a guy in one of those long military coats like you'd find at the Army Surplus. The moment I saw him, it was just like I said, I could suddenly remember a man in a coat like that, and he was so important to me. The only problem was they weren't proper memories. It was like…' He cursed his own lack of eloquence, but before he could find the words Toshiko spoke.

'Like you were certain you knew him, but you couldn't figure out how.' They locked eyes as she finished his sentence and for just a moment there was a sense of complete understanding between the pair. Neither questioned now whether it had been a good idea to meet, instead feeling a profound sense of relief.

'So do you think it's possible we've both been in the same location sometime in the past and met this man?' Toshiko asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

'That or he gets around,' Ianto replied, nodding, 'I always pictured him in Cardiff though.'

Toshiko smiled at this, 'Yeah, I know what you mean. If it helps, I've only been in Cardiff five years.'

'Yeah, I didn't pick you for a local. The accent gives you away.' Ianto teased, 'So where before that?'

'London for the most part, but I spent a few years in Osaka as a kid. How about you?'

'Grew up in Newport, would've gone to London about the time you left it, and then back to Cardiff just over a year ago' surmised Ianto.

'The accent gives you away as a local, I'm afraid. So the only place we have in common is Cardiff?'

'Seems so.' Ianto hesitated, wary of asking his question despite the new found camaraderie between himself and Toshiko. 'Tosh,' he began, 'tonight, do you feel as if we've known one another longer than we have?'

Instead of answering directly, she smiled and responded with a question of her own, 'You called me Tosh?' she asked.

'Sorry, I didn't even think about it,' Ianto apologised, aware though that she did not appear unhappy.

'No, no, that's what I meant, this seems right.'

Ianto understood, 'Even though there's no reason for it to.'

'Did you ever consider putting posters up in other places around the city?' Toshiko queried, sipping her drink.

'Yes,' admitted Ianto, 'but everyone I mentioned him to said I was losing it, so I figured I'd just put one up here and see if anyone responded. Now that there're two of us I guess I'm not just imagining him.' He smiled openly, something he did not tend to do, favouring a dry grin after a well-timed sarcastic comment more than any other positive expression.

Toshiko appreciated this, but felt it necessary to add a second option. 'Either that or he's some kind of shared delusion?' she offered.

'Either way, I'm glad we met.' Ianto responded truthfully.

'Me too.' Toshiko finished her last sip of coffee and, although wishing she could stay, declined another. 'I have to go home, there's a project from work I've been neglecting.' She told him, heading across the café area toward the counter. Carefully prying away the Blu-Tak, she removed the poster. 'I can scan this in to my computer at home and print some copies. I'll bring this one back tomorrow morning.'

'Thanks, Tosh,' said Ianto, shaking her hand. She left the café and turned toward the building Ianto assumed she worked in. Before heading home himself, Ianto sat for a moment, relishing in the hope that accompanied finding a like-minded individual. The scene that had been in the back of his mind from the moment he met Toshiko now propelled itself to the front and rather than be irritated by it, Ianto smiled, it seemed his strange little stories now had a new character.

Leaving Janet's and stepping out on to the street, Ianto caught a tiny whiff of a truly delightful scent. He couldn't quite place it, but a voice in the back of his mind saw fit to remedy that.

_Fifty-First century pharamones, you people have no idea._

It should have scared him, or made him concerned for his sanity, but it did not. Instead, he got the strangest sensation that if somewhere his mystery man did exist, Ianto was now looking in the right direction.

**.A/N: Another one with no Gwen in it. I don't mean to neglect her, but there was no real progression in her story in this fictional day. I could have done a night of boring domestics for the sake of it, but I'd probably enjoy writing it as little as others would enjoy reading it.**

**Anyway, hope it was an enjoyable chapter! Owen's bit originally had him storming off back to Cardiff, but I think I like the way this one ended better. Feedback on issues such as that is always appreciated. :)**


	5. Films About Ghosts

**A/N: Very unsure about this chapter. It took me a while 'cause really it's just getting everything into position for the more interesting later chapters, which unfortunately involves a bit of tedium. Wrote like three different versions before deciding to just grit my teeth and post.**

**Hope it's not too awful. Thanks for all my reviews, favourites and alerts as always oxo.**

Chapter Four

Thursday morning, a week after Ianto and Toshiko met to discuss their mystery man, Gwen Cooper could be found seated at a desk in the police station. She was holding a phone handset which had, until a minute ago, been resting in its cradle on the desk and staring determinedly, as if willing it to disappear. The source of her displeasure was not the phone itself, but the number she'd been directed to call: _Doctor_ Owen Harper's.

Gwen had spent the last week attempting to forget the strange feelings inspired by her interactions with the Londoner but unfortunately, just when she felt she may have been succeeding, an irregularity had turned up in the very accident that was the cause of their meeting. An inspection of the vehicle revealed that its breaks had been tampered with, meaning that a full investigation would be launched and, consequently, Harper would have to give an official statement. Having conducted the original interview, the task of recording his statement fell naturally to Gwen, who found herself almost wishing he were a suspect, thereby warranting an interview with someone more directly involved in the case.

'Gwen, did you manage to get Harper?'

'Not yet, sir.'

Thinking it through, Gwen chided herself for being ridiculous. She was getting all worked up about calling Owen Harper over some weird mental images and déjà vu. This was part of her job, and Gwen would not let irrational worries dictate how she did it.

Resolutions in mind, she quickly dialled his number.

* * *

><p>Little more than a year previously, Ianto Jones had a relatively close circle of friends and consequently a satisfying social life. Things had changed since moving from London, however, and these factors resulted in his having kept in touch with few over the last year. Now, he spent as much time as possible working and counted his co-workers amongst his closest acquaintances. The seemingly instantaneous bond with Toshiko was an unprecedented one, but still decidedly pleasant.<p>

It had become routine over the last week that Tosh would take her coffee breaks at times when Janet's tended to be quiet, and stay to talk to Ianto. He hadn't mentioned it yet for fear she would stop. This morning she was leaning against the counter while he cleaned the coffee machine.

'It's easy,' she insisted, an excited smile on her face, 'you just go in there and say someone's been following you or something, then when they ask who you describe him.'

Ianto raised an eyebrow, 'I think I'd need an extra pair of hands to count the number of problems with that plan.' After thinking for a moment he added, 'Besides, it would work much better if you did it.'

'No, I couldn't describe him properly, I don't have a clear enough mental picture' Toshiko insisted, shaking her head, 'it has to be you.'

'And the fact that I'd be lying to the _police _doesn't bother you?'

'They'll never know.'

'Unless they manage to find him?'

'At which point you decide you're not pressing charges and we get some answers.'

'No.' said Ianto firmly, 'I'll go in and ask them to put up his picture, but I'm not lying.'

Toshiko slumped, defeated, 'Well I can do that this afternoon, I still have a few copies left.'

'If you're sure,' replied Ianto, 'I still don't think you'll find much joy.'

'Well, I'll drop in after to let you know how much joy I find.' Tosh informed him. She subsequently took her bag from where it had been resting on the countertop and made ready to leave. A strange look crossed her face and she added 'If you're not busy after work, that is?'

Ianto, looked confused for a moment, the thought having not occurred to him, 'No, I'm free, see you then.'

'Brilliant, see you.'

Once she was gone, Ianto stopped to think. They may have met through unconventional means, but he and Toshiko were quickly becoming good friends. He hadn't noticed it before now, but he'd missed having his friends around since leaving London and he hoped, even if they managed to solve their mystery, that they would remain so.

Allowing his emotions, for once, to hold dominion over his face, Ianto began cleaning the coffee machine, smiling all the while.

* * *

><p>In his seat across the room, Bilis Manger frowned into an untouched cup of tea as he watched Ianto Jones unknowingly clean the same machine for the second time. He hadn't counted on things breaking down this quickly, and he knew that soon more and more cracks would begin to show. Repetition was harmless and subtle enough but the next stages of degeneration would not be.<p>

Not for the first time, Manger cursed the fragility of this world, and the fact that he himself was a part of it.

* * *

><p>The Cardiff Police Station was bustling when Owen Harper arrived at four o'clock that afternoon. He had not; in the three months he'd resided in Cardiff, entered the building and today found himself too uncomfortable to appreciate the experience. Hearing from PC Cooper again was an unexpected and not particularly welcome distraction in his attempts to forget her. The dreams had not stopped either, regardless of how much Owen tried not to think about them. On the contrary, they had only become more vivid, with five distinct characters: himself, PC Cooper, a somewhat attractive Asian woman, an uptight tosser in a suit and a guy who looked like he belonged in World War II. The theory that he'd seen these people somewhere before and fixated on them subconsciously was still the most likely, Owen believed, but he did wonder why these four in particular. As far as he could tell from the quick-fading dream impressions, he barely liked them most of the time.<p>

Owen was shaken out of his reverie by the approach of a uniformed pair of legs. Looking up, he discovered they belonged to none other than PC Cooper, who greeted him briefly before ushering him into a bullpen. She indicated he should sit at a desk and took for herself the seat on the other side. He marvelled again at how exactly his subconscious managed to mirror real life. Aside from the fact that she was in uniform as opposed to more casual clothes, this woman was the same as the one from his dream down to the smallest detail. It was almost unnerving.

'Okay, Dr Harper,' she began, the image of professional detachment, 'evidence has come to light indicating that the crash in which you attempted to help the victims may have been the result of criminal involvement, and as such a full investigation will be conducted. We just need to take an official statement from you for the records.' Her tone was much cooler than at their first meeting and it put Owen on edge.

Cooper seemed to sense this and smiled weakly at him before adding, 'There's no need to worry, your actions aren't being called into question, this is just a formality.'

'Right then,' Owen finally replied, 'so I just repeat the stuff I said before, yeah?'

'Just go through the events of that afternoon again and I'll record it.'

For the second time Owen told Gwen Cooper what he'd done the day of the crash. Unlike the first, he now felt somewhat detached from the events, almost as if the whole experience had been someone else's. It took over an hour for her to type up his full statement, and then it was printed out for Owen to sign. Overall the process was completed without incident, and he began to feel almost stupid for having built it up so much.

Just as the concept of leaving was instilling a sense of relief in Owen, both he and PC Cooper returned to the area of the station open to the general public. He spared a glance around to the rest of the people in the waiting area, and immediately wished he had not.

Seated in a, Owen knew from experience, very uncomfortable wooden chair, was another figure from his subconscious come to life. A large part of his brain was telling him to leave, to just walk through the glass double doors and never look back, but Owen found he couldn't will himself to do it. Yet another woman who was supposed to be imaginary showing up in real life was too much crazy to ignore, and this time he was going to get answers. Well, either get answers or get committed. Looking around, he realised that PC Cooper must have left right after walking him back out, meaning there was nothing else needed of him here.

Attempting to appear nonchalant, Owen took the seat next to the woman, finding himself again noticing how exactly she'd been replicated in his dream. Surely that meant something? He thought, surely he shouldn't be able to remember such detail?

He hazarded a glance at the piece of paper she was holding in her hands and felt his stomach turn unpleasantly. Someone had sketched a good rendition of World War II guy from Owen's dreams. It entered his head that perhaps this was the dream and he'd wake up in a sec, relieved to find the real world devoid of such confusion. It was an unlikely but comforting possibility.

'What'd he do then?' Owen asked the woman spontaneously.

She looked at him, confused, for a moment before answering, 'Oh, nothing, just someone I'm looking for.'

'Old boyfriend?' he prompted.

'No.' she replied firmly, 'why, do you recognise him?'

'That depends, how much crazy are you prepared to listen to?'


	6. An Imaginary World

Chapter Five

That night, Bilis Manger watched them arrive one by one.

Ianto, of course, had been at Janet's all day, but Bilis still kept an eye on him as he went distractedly about his duties, walking up and down the counter as if pacing. It was understandable really, what with the recent discovery that one of his fictional characters was in fact a real person whom he would be meeting in mere hours. Bilis had been seated at a table not too far from the counter yesterday when Ianto received an excited call from Toshiko, telling him all about a man she met who recognised their dashing captain. It was obvious when she named Owen Harper, as Ianto visibly balked.

Now, as he finished up his shift and took a seat at a vacant table, the young man's restlessness was obvious. Bilis was pleased to see him flustered, as the desire to find answers would be crucial to the team's success, and the team's success was vital to him.

Ianto smiled genuinely for the first time all day when Toshiko entered at ten to six. Their observer almost wanted to congratulate her for how well she'd done in finding Owen, even if he'd planted the idea of going to the police in her head. Bilis' original intention was for Toshiko to show the picture to Gwen, but it seemed the universe worked in mysterious ways. After all, getting Gwen involved had been easy enough in the end.

Soon, Ianto was showing Toshiko his computer, no doubt explaining what he'd written. Her expression became only more surprised, and Bilis was confident she now understood why the Welshman had been so insistent about meeting Owen.

The doctor in question joined them a few minutes later. He approached cautiously; expression guarded, and introduced himself to Ianto. Manger was too far away to hear what was actually being said, but they were all so easy to read he felt he may as well be sitting at the table with them.

Conversation began awkwardly, everyone hesitant to speak about why they were actually there. Toshiko did the most talking, probably sharing what she knew about the two men sitting with her, who surveyed each other with thinly veiled mistrust.

Bilis wished he could just walk over and explain everything, and save them all the trouble, but if he tried to push them into realisation he risked the collapse of everything, and possible further untold consequences. He would have to wait for them to figure out their history unassisted before being able to take the next step and (he prayed to Abaddon) repair the world. Bilis was irritated by how reluctant they had all seemed to find one another up until now. He had managed to throw Gwen and Owen together and they completely ignored the connection they shared. It was simply maddening.

Bilis's ire was only alleviated when a Gwen entered the coffee house, looking nervous as she strode through the almost-empty café. A piece of paper was clutched tightly in her hand, doubtlessly the note he'd left for her at the station. Manger watched as she approached the other three and introduced herself, curious as to how she would go about explaining her presence. For the first time all night he wished to be close enough to hear, but that was a mere triviality compared to the fact that they were all here, finally.

Bilis smiled to himself as he noticed they'd taken a table with four chairs, despite not knowing Gwen would be joining them. Perhaps on some level they did know. It wouldn't be completely improbable, after all.

As he had always been, Manger was acutely aware that his fate rested on these four people and their ability to divine the truth without shattering their fragile world.

He sat back in his chair, irritated, knowing that for now all he could do was wait.

* * *

><p>Friday evenings were far busier than those of the other weekdays, and consequently Janet's Coffee House had near to twice the patrons of twenty-four hours previously. Despite the laughter and pleasant conversation around them, however, one table was oppressively silent.<p>

Gwen Cooper had not yet taken her seat but was standing behind it, a crumpled piece of paper on the table in front of her. It was one of the photocopies Tosh had made a week earlier, with the addition of three hastily scribbled lines in red biro.

_The Twenty-First century is when everything changes.  
>Janet's Coffee House - 38 Welwyn Road<br>6.00pm_

It was Ianto who finally broke the silence. 'The Captain says that a lot.'

Owen snorted, 'Sounds like a bad sci-fi movie. Since when was this tosser "The Captain" anyway?'

'Since I wrote it,' Ianto responded bluntly.

Before Owen could continue the inevitable argument, Gwen interjected, 'Whatever his rank is, I haven't been able to get him out of my head since I got this yesterday. I keep seeing him, and all three of you, and we're in some big science-fiction super-base hunting down monsters, and I want to know why!' As she spoke she grew visibly more agitated, prompting Toshiko to lay a hand on her arm in comfort. The gesture should have been overfamiliar, but felt so to neither woman.

Owen was the one who answered, 'None of us know why, sweetheart, that's why we're here.'

'Not sweetheart, Gwen. One Syllable, sure you can manage it.' Gwen responded, throwing Owen a withering look. She was vaguely irritated at how little respect he showed her now that she was out of uniform.

At this, Toshiko's expression became clouded. Ianto, as if sensing her changing mood, met her eyes with concern in his own.

'Just a bit of déjà vu,' she whispered.

Gwen, who was not to be deterred by Owen's lack of explanation, took the only vacant seat and turned her attention to the other two. 'So, why are you after this "Captain" then, who is he?'

It was Tosh who answered, 'None of us know, not really. We remember him without knowing how or why. Ianto and I have been trying to piece together these memories, but we still know basically nothing about him.'

'Apart from his being gay,' Owen interjected.

Gwen appeared distinctly surprised, 'Really? Do you think?'

'Owen does, I don't,' Toshiko offered.

'I'm sorry, but period military is not the dress code of a straight man,' said Owen, as if this decided the matter.

'I think it suits him, sort of classic,' argued Gwen, surveying the photocopy on the table in front of her, 'don't you think?' She appealed to Ianto, who had remained determinedly silent throughout the discussion.

He started at being addressed so directly and took a moment to respond. 'I think there's really only so much you can get from a sketch, and if I could chose, sexual orientation wouldn't be the first question I'd want answered.' As an afterthought, he turned to Gwen and added, 'I'm Ianto, by the way, and that's Toshiko and Owen.'

He gestured to the others in turn, though when his name was reached, Owen interrupted, 'We've met. She's one of the women of my dreams.'

'I knew you recognised me at that crash!' Gwen cried out in triumph, 'I recognised you.'

'Where from, dreams?' Toshiko asked curiously.

Gwen shook her head, 'No, no, it was like flashes of memory, kind of impressions. They weren't real memories though.'

'Obviously,' said Owen, rolling his eyes.

'Thankfully,' Gwen amended, glaring.

'What's that supposed to mean?'

'I think you know what.'

'Enlighten me.'

Gwen was silent, looking suddenly unsure.

'You're acting like we should share the same memories or something,' said Owen, when Gwen would not respond, 'I mean, we're all mad, but there's no way we're having the exact same delusions.'

At this point, Toshiko felt it reasonable to interrupt, 'What about him?' she asked, gesturing once again to the Captain.

'We probably all imagined different guys, then saw Ianto's sketch and convinced ourselves it was him. The brain loves to change what it remembers to fit the explanations it's given.' Owen explained to his rather sceptical audience.

'I don't understand, you were the one who came to me in the station the other day, what's changed?' Tosh asked, feeling slightly disappointed at Owen's new attitude.

In fact, Owen was not convinced his explanation was the correct one, but Gwen's comments had made him nervous. Last night his defective brain had produced a rather vivid dream about the two of them in the back seat of his car. He was certain that was what Gwen had been referring to, and it worried him more than a little.

Instead of voicing all this, he responded with an evasive, 'Nothing's changed; I'm just trying to introduce a bit of logic into this mad house.'

As he finished, Ianto returned with coffee for everyone. Tosh, Owen and Gwen were rather startled, having not noticed him leave. It turned out he'd managed to brew each person's favourite drink, and presented Gwen with two ginger snaps on a napkin. Toshiko was unsurprised, as the barista had long known her preferred concoction, but the others stared up at him questioningly.

'How the hell did you know what to get me without asking?' asked the doctor after a moment's silence.

Ianto seemed slightly confused also. 'I don't know, I just did. Well, I already knew Tosh's, the rest were just automatic,' he answered, taking his seat.

'Oh well, I love these, thanks Ianto,' Gwen commented, taking a bite of her biscuit.

Tosh smiled, feeling a little smug, 'So how would you explain that, Owen?'

'Buggered if I know.' He took a resigned sip of his beverage and added, 'It's good, but I think by the end of the night I might need something a bit stronger, tea-boy.'

'Owen!' Toshiko admonished.

Ianto simply shrugged, 'Don't worry, Tosh, I'm used to it.'

'How?' she countered.

'Oh… I don't know.'

'Yep, definitely going to need something stronger.'

Owen looked around and Gwen rolled her eyes, 'We're in a _café,_ good luck finding anything "stronger".'

'Well that's just bad planning. Who picked a bloody café to meet in anyway, a bar would be much cooler. Haven't any of you seen Star Wars?' Owen turned his eyes back to his companions, eyebrows raised.

'Tosh and I chose it because I work here,' Ianto informed him bluntly.

Owen snorted, 'Wait, so you really are a tea-boy?'

'I'm a barista, I make _coffee,_' countered Ianto.

'You guys do tea too.'

'That doesn't change my job title.'

As the two men were speaking, Tosh whispered to Gwen, 'It's ridiculous, they're arguing like little kids and they only met half an hour ago.'

Gwen hadn't noticed anything odd, but now that it was mentioned, she realised Tosh was dead-on. 'You're right,' she agreed, 'it's like they've known each other for years.'

'I feel like I've known all of you a long time,' Tosh stated tentatively.

Gwen considered this. The four of them had, after the initial awkwardness of her arrival, settled in to easy conversation. It wasn't even the cautious small-talk of new acquaintances, but the kind of open, honest dialogue shared by old friends.

'Yeah, I feel that way too.'

They listened as Owen and Ianto concluded their debate (Ianto's comment that he was twenty-five, and therefore a man, not a boy being declared bullshit by Owen at half a decade his senior caused the Welshman to give the whole thing up as futile) before Gwen decided to present her question to her three companions.

'Do any of you happen to remember a pterodactyl?'

To her immense surprise, Toshiko and Ianto laughed without appearing to be mocking her. While Owen looked on at them both as if they were totally mad, Ianto retrieved his laptop from the bag that had lain unnoticed at his feet and opened it up to a text document. He read to their table in general about how he and the captain caught said pterodactyl and transported her to a secret underground location. He, of course, left out some of the more embarrassing details that came to mind as the story progressed, but added in some further description to the more action-focused parts.

Gwen was thrilled with the tale, while Owen teased Ianto for writing about himself. The Welshman proceeded to read to him the events that followed, and Owen reluctantly revealed that he did indeed recall being introduced to 'some uptight tosser in a suit' in one of his significantly more boring dreams.

This lead to a kind of group storytelling effort, where everyone offered what they remembered, and a plot began to form. All four enjoyed this to the point that they did not notice when closing time arrived, and were shooed out by a somewhat amused Laura the artist.

They agreed to meet at the same time next week, and were all true to their word. Like four children who had built an imaginary world together, they became wrapped up in memories of lives never lived. These memories were becoming more and increasingly vivid the more they talked about them. They spoke of it to no one else, and, if asked, would proclaim themselves far too old for such delusions, but still looked forward to Friday evenings with unexplained fever.

Gwen would tell Rhys she was going out with her girlfriends, unsure of exactly why she lied; Ianto would refuse shifts on Friday nights; Toshiko made sure she got in early so as to have all her work finished before it was time to meet; while Owen kept those evenings free and said nothing about it to his wife.

This went on for just over a month, with Bilis Manger watching all the time, waiting for precisely the right moment to put the next phase of his plan in to action.

**A/N: Well, here it is! It may be slightly disjointed as this was the work of just over a month of writers block, then one evening of inspiration. I think one of the problems was trying to write a conversation between four people limited to one person's point of view, like that which I've used previously. In the end I think this worked much better, but only time (and hopefully reviews) will tell.**

**Owen is also a bit argumentative in this chapter. I don't like it when he comes off as the bad guy all the time, but the arguments are so damn fun to write xD. Just one more thing I would love reader imput on.**

**Oh, and thanks to everyone who alerted/favourited as well as Wanderling, cjh4ever and Torchwood Cardiff for reviewing!  
><strong>


	7. Sunday Morning

Chapter Six

Sunday morning arrived with anomalous clear skies and, for three of the four no-longer strangers, arrived completely unwelcome.

As much as Gwen Cooper loved her son, she had never claimed to enjoy waking up to his screaming at seven o'clock in the morning. The situation was made even less pleasant by the headache that pounded against her skull and the slight nausea stewing in her stomach. These factors convinced her that Rhys was currently the more fit and able parent.

Saturday night had marked the first deviation in four weeks from the pattern of Friday gatherings. Owen, on the Friday two days earlier, had finally convinced the others to spend Saturday evening in a bar, insisting that if they all relaxed a bit insight about their strange not-quite recollections might be forthcoming. Gwen was pretty sure that was bollocks, but agreed because of how hard Tosh had been working on finding an answer since that first meeting at Janet's. The software developer had filled every minute of her spare time with researching mass delusions, repressed memory, retrograde amnesia and all manner of other psychological phenomena to no avail, as well as continuing to try and track down their mysterious 'Captain.'

If any insight had resulted, then Gwen's dim memory seemed to have discarded it. Indeed, the further she progressed into the evening, the fuzzier her recollections became until Ianto (as the self-designated driver) ordered them all in to a car at a little past midnight and she crept back in to the house and collapsed into bed.

The only notable oddities were a strange explanation from Owen involving sex-gas and rat jam and her own rant about how no one remembered what it meant to be human. Looking back, Gwen began to hope that part was a dream.

She failed to notice the crying had stopped until a heavy weight was placed on her chest, and she opened her eyes to find another pair staring back. The eyes were the same shape and colour as Rhys's, but set in a much smaller face that was currently smiling down at her like she was the most fascinating person in the universe.

'He's not having a bar of me this morning,' Rhys explained, and Gwen felt the mattress move as he sat down on the bed beside her, 'Big night then?'

'Not really, just a few drinks.'

'Oh yeah, who with?'

'Couple of work friends.' The lie came to her with unpleasant ease, but still seemed justified. Gwen was at a loss as to how she would explain her new friends, if that was even the best description for them, to her husband without coming off as completely bonkers.

_Rhys, this is Tosh, Owen and Ianto. We get together every so often and talk about things that never happened and obsess over a man who doesn't exist._

It sounded absolutely ridiculous, but there wasn't even a way to explain how they'd met without involving the Captain or what Owen referred to as their 'shared delusion'. No, lying was easier for everyone involved.

Gwen, despite her protesting cranium, raised herself into a seated position, placing Dylan on the bed so he could exercise his obvious desire to crawl.

She kept one eye on him as Rhys spoke again, 'Oh, and this came for you in the post yesterday.' He handed her a large white envelope with a peck on the cheek. 'Now, let's see if we can rustle up some breakfast.' Smiling, he headed for the kitchen.

Gwen had barely heard the last sentence, as she was busy studying the envelope in her hands. It was unremarkable in every way except one. Her name and address were scrawled in the same handwriting and red biro as that which lead her to Janet's. In the mystery and intrigue of the night that followed, Gwen had all but forgotten the anonymous message, but apparently its sender had not forgotten her.

* * *

><p>Two hours later and a ten minute drive away Toshiko was nursing a strong cup of coffee while on the phone with Ianto. He'd called to inform her that she'd left her mobile in his car the previous evening, and that Owen had called it requesting his keys back. It had taken her normally quick brain much longer than normal to process this confusing summary of events.<p>

'Why does he think I have his keys?' she asked incredulously.

'_Says you took them last night so he wouldn't drive home._'

'But he didn't even have his car there?'

'_Apparently you were still adamant._'

Tosh chuckled, conscious that she had been slightly tipsy by the end of the night, though she'd believed herself not so much so that details like stealing someone's car keys would have escaped her.

'Okay, tell him I'm on my way over,' she paused for a moment and added, 'then I'll head to yours for my phone.'

She could practically hear the teasing smile in Ianto's voice as he replied, 'Sounds like a plan,' and gave her Owen's address.

The drive there was mercifully short, as intense concentration seemed to be required for completion of even the simplest tasks in Toshiko's current state. She pulled up outside a pleasant-looking block of flats not far from the bay and pressed the button labelled 'Harper'. The voice on the other end was somewhat disgruntled, probably from waking up hung-over, but admitted her nonetheless. The flat was two floors up, and Toshiko found herself becoming unaccountably nervous as she climbed the stairs. Shaking her head to clear away the ridiculous feeling, she reminded herself that this was the same man she'd spent hours and hours talking to, the sarcastic, acerbic, doctor she lost a sculling contest to only last night. The same man she found strangely fascinating…

'If you're not going to come in, you could at least give me the keys.'

Tosh looked up suddenly from the floor she'd let her eyes drift to and found Owen standing in an open doorway. Heat rose to her cheeks as she realised she hadn't even noticed him open the door.

'Sorry, I'm a bit out of it this morning,' she explained, 'terrible headache.' That much was pure exaggeration, as the pain at the base of her skull had become barely noticeable during the trip over. Not that Owen really needed to know that, Toshiko reasoned.

'You and me both, and I'll bet Gwen too,' he said with an attempt at a smile, 'You coming in then?'

'Oh, right, yes.'

The flat was unexpectedly neat, though furnished surprisingly sparsely. Upon entering, the eye was immediately drawn to a large floor-to ceiling window which boasted a spectacular view of the bay, made even more so by the current sunshine.

'Coffee, tea, hair of the dog?' Owen's voice called from the kitchen. It was situated to the left of the front door and separated from the rest of the flat by only a countertop,

'Tea please,' Tosh answered, searching for something to say. She hadn't anticipated Owen asking her in, expecting instead that she would simply drop off his keys and leave. Finally, she settled on 'So, last night's experiment yield any results?'

'What?'

'Did you get any new clues?'

'Oh, nah, just found out Gwen gets bloody preachy when she's drunk.'

Tosh easily recalled the incident he referred to and laughed, 'That was strange,' she agreed, 'still, I would've liked to have gotten something out of it.'

Rolling his eyes, Owen countered, 'What's it matter, you had fun didn't you?'

'Oh definitely,' Tosh replied quickly.

'Then I'd call it a success. You're working too hard, Tosh.'

She smiled at this, realising how much she liked the way Owen called her Tosh. It was subtly different from the Welsh pronunciation she heard so often. It was different from another accent she heard often too, but she couldn't quite pinpoint which.

_Tosh, finish that calibration tomorrow morning._

_Come on, Tosh._

_So you secretly fight crime, is that it Tosh?_

Something was different...

'He's American!'

Toshiko's sudden exclamation caused Owen to spill hot water from the kettle all over the countertop. 'Shit!' he cursed, 'Who's American?'

'The Captain!'

He looked puzzled for a few seconds, before an expression of dawning comprehension overtook it, 'Shit, you're right.'

'And that gives us a starting point,' Toshiko continued, flush now with excitement, 'There'll only be so many American Captains serving in the RAF.'

'We could get Gwen to look him up.'

'Exactly! Then she can check the photos, see if any of them match.'

Owen, grinning, placed a cup of tea on the counter in front of her and said 'You are absolutely brilliant.' Before she could make a move for the cup or dwell on the compliment, however, the front door openedand a cheerful voice called:

'Owen? I had a free day and I thought I'd surprise you.'

The woman who entered was pretty, with long blonde hair and a small suitcase. Her smile was open and honest, only faltering slightly when she saw Tosh, who wished now to be swallowed up by the wooden flooring beneath her. Suddenly the triumph of their American revelation seemed to dull. Of course he had a girlfriend.

Uncaring of what her brain told them to do, her eyes slid to the woman's left hand. Toshiko balked. He had a _wife_.

She told herself it shouldn't matter, that he was nothing more than a friend, but for some reason such reasoning was not in the least bit convincing. Suddenly, the woman was talking and Tosh was brought back down to Earth for the second time this morning.

'Hi, I'm Kate,' she said, dropping her case and shaking hands.

'Toshiko. It's nice to meet you.'

There was a long moment of silence before Tosh had the sense to say 'I'd better be off, here are your keys.' She fished the indicated items from her pocket and placed them on the counter next to her untouched cup of tea. All the nervous overthinking and feverish excitement of the last twenty minutes had been replaced by the singular desire to be as far from Owen and Kate Harper as humanly possible.

Owen, who had moved to stand beside Kate grinned and commented, 'Course, wouldn't want to keep Ianto waiting. You want me to let Gwen know about the American thing?'

Tosh stopped dead, 'What?'

'You know, that she needs to look for an American Captain - '

'No, the first part.' Toshiko's heartbeat was uncomfortably loud in her ears as she waited for a response. She knew she should really leave, but felt unable to move.

'Ianto? Well, I figured since he stayed at yours last night.'

'He didn't.'

'He answered your phone, Tosh.'

'I left it in his car when he dropped us off yesterday.'

'Oh, right.'

If things had been awkward a minute ago, they were now ten times more so. In an instant, Toshiko decided that the only bad course of action now was to remain in this flat, and left without another word. The whole way down to her car she berated herself for being so defensive. She couldn't figure out why it had been so important to set Owen straight, but in that moment it seemed more so than anything else in the world.

Exiting the building, she flung herself into her car, feeling the beginnings of tears welling in her eyes. For five minutes the vehicle remained stationary, as its occupant was plagued by emotions that weren't hers, by four years' worth of unrequited love for a man she'd known only five weeks.

* * *

><p>'Well, she's interesting,' Katie commented a few seconds after the door closed.<p>

Owen moved forward to embrace her, and after a brief kiss, replied, 'Yeah, I'm not sure what that was about, she's usually really friendly.'

'I don't doubt. I'm sorry though, I should have called to let you know I was coming.' Releasing herself from Owen's embrace, she picked up the case and headed for the bedroom. Before she could get there, Owen reached out and clasped a hand lightly on her wrist.

'Don't be daft, I'm glad to see you.' He paused for a moment, realising he probably didn't look it thanks to his unyielding headache, 'still just a bit tired. Anyway, this is your house too.'

'Well, perhaps not in a few weeks.'

Her tone was light, but the words were heavy. Owen had not forgotten their two month deal, but had been pointedly ignoring how quickly the deadline was approaching. Meeting Gwen, Tosh and Ianto had only made him keener to stay in Cardiff. If there was an answer to why they shared a common delusion (which was how he insisted on defining it), then they were much more likely to find that answer together. Unfortunately, he couldn't see Katie understanding that, and knew it was unfair of him to expect her to.

When she re-emerged after depositing her case in the bedroom, Owen suggested they spend the day enjoying Cardiff in the sunshine, eager now more than ever to convince his wife to stay.

* * *

><p>It took less than five seconds after Toshiko entered his flat for Ianto to deduce the reason behind her reddened eyes and forced smile. His question consisted of only one word.<p>

'Owen?'

Her eyes widened perceptibly. 'How did you…?'

Ianto's own eyes slid purposefully toward the open laptop sitting on the coffee table in front of them where both knew there were pages and pages of dialogue and description relating to their made-up world. Ianto had been writing about a fictional version of Toshiko and her unrequited love for weeks now.

'Oh,' Tosh replied, slightly embarrassed, 'did you know he was married?'

'What?'

Even in this despondent mood, she found Ianto's surprise distinctly amusing, as she'd become convinced that he was incapable of displaying such a sudden and obvious visible reaction. On hearing of Owen's marriage, however, he'd almost choked on his coffee.

Toshiko went on to describe Kate and everything that had happened in Owen's flat. Ianto apologised sincerely for causing the confusion by answering her phone, but Tosh maintained there was no need to do so.

'After all, it shouldn't matter what he thinks,' she paused momentarily before adding, 'but for some reason it just _does_.'

Ianto's expression was contemplative as he replied, 'Could be something to do with all this stuff we remember. _She_ had a thing for a single Owen for years.' The '_she_' was accompanied by a hand waved toward the laptop.

Ianto was the only one of the four who consistently referred to whatever it was they shared as 'memories.' Toshiko often wondered if he did this on purpose, or that was just how he thought of them.

When she spoke, it was after a few seconds of silent thought, 'I suppose it could be, though it sounds more than a little bit mad.'

'Doesn't everything we say?'

'True.'

The ringing of Tosh's mobile cut through the now pleasant atmosphere. They looked at each other for a moment with near-identical grins.

'You answer it,' Ianto instructed.

Toshiko complied, and was greeted by a rather flustered-sounding Gwen.

'_Tosh, are you free to meet Monday evening?_'

'Sure, why?'

'_I got something in the mail that I need to talk to everyone about. Same time and place as usual._'

'Are you alright Gwen?' Ianto mouthed 'what?' upon hearing this, to which Tosh responded with a raised arm that professed her lack of knowledge.

'_I'm fine, just got off the phone with Owen. He can't meet tonight 'cause his wife's here. Did you know he had a bloody _wife?'

'I found out today. A bit odd, huh?'

'_Way more than odd. Anyway, I have to go, I have work._'

Suddenly, Toshiko remembered her and Owen's earlier revelation, which had been completely obscured by the events that followed, 'Oh, could you do some sort of search for an American Captain who served in the RAF?'

'_I have a friend who can get it done quickly._' Gwen paused, '_I can't believe I didn't realise he was American, it's so obvious now that you said it._'

'I know what you mean. We'll talk about it Monday?'

'_Okay, see you_.'

Toshiko hung up, slightly annoyed that merely the appearance of Owen's wife could have almost made her forget such crucial information. Her motivation for finding the Captain, and determining why he was so important was suddenly redoubled. She would not let herself be so influenced by feelings that weren't even hers.

There was something much bigger going on here, and Toshiko Sato was determined to find out what.

**A/N: This chapter ended up distinctly Tosh-focused, and returned to third person limited for the perspective. I think the alternate approach will be saved for when all four of them are together. A little unsure about this one (I know, like I'm ever not), so I'd really appreciate some feedback. Not all that much happened with regards to storyline progression, as this chapter was originally smaller and part of the next, but it just kinda exploded with regards to the one sided Tosh/Owen. Didn't put that as a warning since it's canon, hope no one minds xD.  
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**Oh, and a record number of reviews for any chapter I've ever written for the last one! Was absolutely fantastic and kept me motivated through this, a difficult chapter. Thanks to cjh4ever, DarkwingDuckie, Torchwood Cardiff, Wanderling, PadawannaB, CaffieneScribbler and jamaiscredule!**

**I also realise I've never thanked everyone who reads silently. Just for giving this shaky little story a chance, you have my undying gratitude.**


	8. Mad and Impossible

Chapter Seven

An atmosphere of general exhaustion pervaded the little table at the back of Janet's that evening. The first day of the working week had taken it's toll, and Owen, Toshiko and Ianto sat in near silence as they waited for Gwen to arrive. Overall, it was a comfortable quietness, though Owen was very much aware that Tosh had not spoken a word directly to him since the day she behaved so oddly at his flat.

At the time he had dismissed it, but the nagging feeling he was missing something had pervaded. Katie had left the for London the previous afternoon following a thoroughly enjoyable weekend that might have given him hope that she could yet be talked into staying had he been prone to practicing any kind of optimism. Every time he thought on the problem Owen found himself planning ways he might convince her, which in turn resulted in a near constant feeling of guilt. He kept reminding himself that they had made an agreement, and there was no substantial justification for backing out of it. Unfortunately, with every reminder, this argument seemed to become slightly less convincing.

Looking around, he saw that Tosh and Ianto seemed to be just as lost in their own thoughts as Owen was his. The realisation that he could not hazard a guess at what those thoughts might be took him by surprise for a moment. Despite the time they had spent together in real life, and the ever-present false memories, Owen found he knew very little about the lives of the people with whom he shared so much. Gwen had mentioned her husband and son on multiple occasions, but the other two were as quiet as he himself was on the topic of their personal lives.

Perhaps this was because there was nothing and no one that really needed mentioning or perhaps, like Owen, they felt the need for a distinction between the real world and their fantasy. He'd supposed for quite a while that Ianto and Tosh were somehow involved, but she had vehemently denied it only two days earlier and he couldn't say he was disappointed by the revelation. He genuinely liked Tosh, while to the Tea-Boy he was relatively indifferent, and tended to think she could do better.

It was little over five minutes of waiting and thinking before Gwen pushed open the glass door that separated Janet's from the outside world. At least, that was the feeling Owen always got when he entered, like the little coffee house constituted its own reality. Tonight was very much like the very first night, except that this time they were waiting for Gwen to arrive as opposed to it being a confusing though somehow appropriate surprise.

Greetings were exchanged and Ianto, as had become tradition, left the table to retrieve everyone's drinks. Owen couldn't be sure of the unease he sensed beneath Gwen's obfuscating smile, so he did his best to dismiss it.

'Now what's so exciting you had us all come down here on the most depressing day of the week?' Owen asked, putting such effort into projecting good humor that it induced raised eyebrows all around.

'In a second,' Gwen replied with a wave of her hand before turning to Tosh, 'I did that search you wanted, got all American Captain's for the last fifty years, but none of them matched the sketch. A couple of the older ones had the pictures missing and I jotted their names down, but wouldn't get your hopes up, he really didn't look more than forty.' She handed a sheet of paper to Tosh, who surveyed it for a few seconds, seeming genuinely disappointed when it brought on no revelations.

'Thanks Gwen,' she said tiredly.

Owen, however, was grinning. 'Hey tea-boy,' he called to Ianto, who was still standing up at the counter, 'looks like your whole omnipotent thing's on the blink, our Captain isn't a Captain after all.'

Ianto frowned slightly, but gave no other indication that he had heard the remark, and continued chatting to the short redhead who was preparing their beverages. Owen consistently found enjoyment in starting arguments with the besuited Welshman that was mostly derived from trying to get him to rise to the bait. It was a sufficiently challenging goal that even now, over a month in, teasing Ianto had not lost its fun.

'Perhaps it's fake name?' suggested Tosh.

'I don't think you can call it a fake name if you've only got a rank,' said Gwen, her brows drawing together in consideration, 'but it could always be a nickname.'

'Fits with his bloody big ego.'

'Owen!'

'You know it's true.'

Gwen looked as if she was going to argue the point, but Owen knew he was right. Instead she just rolled her eyes.

'Makes you wonder what else we've got wrong about him, doesn't it?' said Tosh, almost to herself.

'Hard to know what's wrong when we don't actually _know_ anything.' Owen pointed out, 'He could have done all kinds of awful shit and we wouldn't know any different.'

All were quiet a moment in contemplation, aware that he was completely right. The lack of backstory for their fabled Captain had indeed been discussed, but the idea that there could be something terrible in his past seemed never to have entered anyone's mind until now. It was as if there was suddenly a darker aspect to their little world, a veritable Pandora's Box of memories that had, thus far, remained firmly shut away. The monsters that had been so prevalent were much easier to face than the prospect of a horror that still remained unknown.

Ianto returned with a tray of drinks and a warm smile, the latter of which quickly faltered as he noticed everyone else's melancholy.

'So,' he began, distributing warm mugs to appreciative hands 'you had something specific you wanted to discuss, Gwen?'

'Yes, sorry, of course,' she replied, shaking her head slightly as if to clear it, 'you remember the night I met you all, how I got a note telling me where to come? Well I got something else from the same person.'

Somewhat solemnly, Gwen reached down to a bag that had, until now, been sitting innocuously at her feet and retrieved a plan white envelope. She did so almost hesitantly, removing its contents with extreme delicacy.

Immediately, Owen ascertained that it was a photograph, enlarged so as to fit on an A4 sized page. The realisation of the precise implication of the photograph took somewhat longer.

In the centre was the Captain, looking much the same as memory would suggest and seated on a strikingly familiar plaid couch. Tosh was there, sitting on his left and Gwen on his right and the Captain had one arm around either of them. Owen himself was leaning, with one hand on the back of the couch, next to Tosh and Ianto was standing, poker straight, on the opposite side. They were all smiling, though not the awkward, forced sort of smiles found in posed photographs but genuinely, and Owen got the impression that one of them had just said something hilarious, based on the way Gwen's eyes were all squinty and Ianto had the distinct look of one trying to contain his mirth.

Then, just for a moment, he could recall with perfect clarity the afternoon that picture was taken and everything made perfect sense.

Until, of course, he was brought back to reality by a soft 'Oh my God' from Tosh, and suddenly everything stopped making sense because that picture was _completely impossible._

He looked around the table and found Gwen looking anxious, Tosh confused and Ianto surprised and more than slightly pleased.

'How?' Owen asked, finally finding his voice.

'I don't know,' replied Gwen simply.

'But it's not possible,' stated Tosh.

'Pretty much.'

'Maybe it's a fake?' came Owen's weak suggestion, which caused Gwen to roll her eyes for the second time that night.

Tosh, however, saw fit to answer, 'Highly unlikely given the quality, but plausible...'

'Except for the fact that we all remember it being taken.' Ianto finished when she trailed off.

They were at a stalemate, with no one wanting to say what Owen could tell they were all thinking.

Of course, he'd always been good at saying what everyone else was too reserved to, 'Okay, forget impossible, forget mad, we're past them at this point. Give us your best theory, no matter how unrealistic it is. I'll start; Time travel.'

Gwen shook her head, 'Explains the photo, but not the memories.'

'Plus, it's dated 2006,' said Ianto, pointing to a small time-stamp in the corner of the kind produced by a digital camera.

'Good, see, that's one crazy possibility down. Tosh?' Owen prompted.

'RetCon and false memories?'

'Doesn't that make RetCon itself a false memory?' questioned Ianto.

'I guess it would,' said Tosh, frowning, 'how about we change it to 'mind-altering drugs'?'

'I've known Rhys since Uni, and there's no way this was taken before then,' argued Gwen, and before Owen could even open his mouth to suggest Rhys could be involved she added, 'and I _know_ everything with him was real.'

She said this with such certainty that no one argued, but Owen could tell that Tosh and Ianto, like himself, were filing this idea under 'plausible'. It was slightly too long for comfort before he considered what that would mean for himself and Katie.

It was Gwen who made the next suggestion, 'How about alternate realities? You know, every decision produces a different version of reality and one of them is somehow, I don't know, bleeding through?'

'Like through a rift in time and space that runs right through Cardiff.' Ianto postulated, with an expression that could be most closely likened to disappointment. Everyone nodded at that, the rift having been discussed multiple times before.

When Owen voiced his objection, it was quietly, but with conviction, 'It doesn't really feel like these are someone else's memories though.'

And it really didn't. He wasn't aware of when exactly he'd started mentally calling it 'memory' or when what had originally come in flashes and dreams became a constant undercurrent of associations. For a while now the memories had been permanently residing in the back of his mind until, though incomplete, they were as familiar to him as his own, real, recollections.

The silence hat followed said more to support him than words could have. No one wanted to admit that it was true.

'Whatever explanation ends up being the right one, we're not going to figure it all out tonight,' Tosh pointed out fairly.

'Plus we can only ignore the mad and impossible parts for so long,' added Gwen, smiling ever so slightly.

Tosh smiled in return. 'So we take some time to think about it,' she more instructed than suggested, 'and meet back here on Friday like normal.'

Everyone agreed to this proposal, and only once they were getting up to leave did Owen remember exactly how tired he was, having worked all of the previous night and well into the day. Suddenly bed and a few hours of blissful nothingness seemed far more appealing then remaining here and trying to riddle out a situation that consistently defied logic.

Considering this prospect, Owen barely noticed when Ianto asked Gwen if he could borrow the photograph. She handed it over gratefully, saying she'd spent far too much time staring at it already and was glad to be rid of it. The fact that Tosh subtly avoided him when exchanging goodbyes, on the other hand, remained in his thoughts for much of the drive home.

* * *

><p>That night, not one of the four who'd met at Janet's got a good night's sleep.<p>

Toshiko gave up by eleven and spent from then until just past three o'clock in the morning continuing her research with a few more tiny clues to go on. She was desperate at this point to find some kind of rational explanation because, just for a second and without any kind of empirical evidence, she had been certain that somehow all of this madness was true. Her efforts, in the end, were futile. _But really, _she thought just before sleep finally claimed her, _any answer found at three in the morning on Google is likely to be total shit tomorrow morning. _The thought made her smile.

Ianto spent the night pouring over his 'stories'. In part, he hoped to find something previously overlooked that would make it all make sense, and in part to confirm a suspicion that could change everything. Eventually this degenerated into reading, over and over, the parts that he kept in a separate folder, the parts he never even showed Tosh. It was ridiculously self-indulgent and helped nothing, but Ianto could not help himself. After all, what was the point of a fantasy world if one could not retreat to it every so often, when the real world stopped making sense.

Gwen's sleeplessness had less to do with the events of earlier in the evening and more to do with a particularly unhappy, currently teething child. Realising that, with everything that was going on, she'd been leaving Rhys to deal with Dylan alone more than was probably fair considering they both worked. She told him to go to bed in a small attempt at penance, but Rhys joined her after fifteen minutes. When eventually their son was asleep, Gwen spent a few very enjoyable hours alone with her husband, and forgot, just for a little while, all the confusion and uncertainty. For that night, it didn't really matter.

Owen's was the worst of all. The dream that plagued his unconscious mind almost as soon as he fell into bed repeated itself until he woke, scared out of his mind, at six the next morning.

An hour later he left, and come Friday their table at Janet's had an empty seat that chilled the other three to the bone.

**A/N: I sincerely apologise for how long it took me to post this chapter. These last five weeks have been filled to the brim with Uni stuff, and my first four or so drafts were spectacular failures. Also, because of starting Uni I haven't checked reviews or anything so I apologise again if I haven't responded to anyone.**

**I do know that, canonically speaking, there's no evidence a 'team photo' like the one described in this chapter was ever actually taken, but it really suited my purposes here, and I always sort of assumed there was one considering Torchwood's records system.**

**Thanks to anyone who's still reading, next chapter should not take nearly as long as this one!**


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